


Thanatos Ascending

by prince_mel



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: F/M, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-05 23:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16821028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prince_mel/pseuds/prince_mel
Summary: "You think I died, leaving the family that was the center of my world, to be reborn in this hell hole where danger is so close to me that I have to train to survive and live!" I snatched my hand back from her grip, gasping for air and vainly trying to snatch some form of sense among all this bullshit— "Do you think I wanted this? I've spent so many hours, days, months, trying to come up with a reason, why I even regained my memories! Why was I torn away from my mother and sisters to live again, apart from them! What's the whole point if they aren't here with me!""Haru-chan—" The baby was wriggling."Why me! I've never understood why it was me! What did I do, to deserve this! Is this hell! Is this punishment for a sin I committed! Because if it is, I've learned my lesson. So please," I wasn't even sure who I was talking to anymore, "give me back my family!"I was bawling, I belatedly realized. Hiccuping and wailing at anything and everything. I don't know how Aria's voice penetrated my mental breakdown, but the smooth tones and sharp accented vowels somehow processed in my mind: "You have a purpose here, Haru-chan. And it is because it is you—"





	1. Pilot

I could say that this is the worst day ever.

But then I'd sound like every other teenage protagonist.

Either way, to me—in my eyes—this _could, possibly, be_ the day the world ends.

This is the part when,a character on the sidelines would say, "Don't push your luck."

Yet, I was more than certain that it had ran out already. If me being on the verge of a mental breakdown was anything to go by.

For _one, long,_ moment that seemed to extend into eternity... I genuinely _loathed_ my life.

I... **_hated_** it.

I inhaled deeply, nose and mouth buried in my cupped hands, _bundling_ all of my feelings into a _tight tight_ ball and _swallowing_ fiercely, the tears just _waiting_ and _waiting_ to trail down my cheeks in a _rush_ of—

 _Damn… Damn. Damn!_ Damn! **Damn it! God! Damn It!**

How is it that a human being could endure so much, yet the littlest thing could break them up from the inside out?

It seems, that in my case, my mother's little words could annihilate any will I had believed myself of possessing.

I could _feel_ something _breaking..._

"Mel?" I jumped, acutely aware of what was going on inside of me and what that might look like to anyone sneaking a peak into the staff room.

"Yeah?" I responded reflexively, voice cracking in the middle. I cleared my throat in embarrassment, trying to keep my facial expression neutral and _hoping_ the girl wouldn't say anything.

The new hire continued, but whether it was out of consideration or because she genuinely hadn't seen the water pooling on my lower lashes, I don't know, "There's a girl asking for you."

"Ah," I said, knowing who she was talking about, "That's my little sister. Thanks."

"No problem." She replied easily, "Have you clocked out, yet?"

"Yeah," I responded, standing and feeling mildly relieved that my knees were still working, "you're closing right?"

"Yeah."

"People have been complaining about the temperature in the lap pool. It's still at eighty-five degrees, but there's no harm checking on it every now and then." I advised, grabbing my duffel bag and throwing it on my shoulder. "See you tomorrow."

I walked out of the staff room and tried to remember what her name was, but I gave up soon enough when I made eye contact with familiar brown eyes.

"Hey, _bola*."_ I greeted, lifting a hand and running it through her hair. I felt the tension in my diaphragm dissipate at the simple motion. The texture of the smooth strands between my fingers was mundanely intimate, and I was never more glad for the feeling.

"Mami's mad at you." She said.

All of a sudden I was keenly aware of the argument I had had with her not even five minutes ago.

"Yeah," I said, trying to calm the raging emotions inside of me, "I know." I forcibly turned us away, as if walking away from that one spot would make everything better again, "Let's go. What time does _Lupe*_ get out?"

"I dunno. Ask her." I sighed, more at the prospect of having to pull out my phone than actually texting the six little words. "Okay, give me a minute."

I pulled out my phone and proceeded to open the texting app, feeling my littlest sister getting bored and turning away to anything that could grab her attention.

 _What time do you get out?_ I promptly sent, taking note of the time and wondering how much time we would have to spare.

"Hey, _bola,_ wanna get food while we wait?" I asked, opening up a social media app.

"Hey, there's a ball in the water." I heard her call out.

"Hm?" I glanced up to see her crouching on the deck, pointing to a ball floating on top of the water. "Leave it," I said, turning my attention back to my phone, "The new girl will get it. Do you wanna get food or nah?"

"I can—" I looked up at the same moment she fell into the water with a shriek.

Somehow, I was able to process that I wasn't on duty and that the new girl should be hopping in. I was able to process that I would be a liability and that it would cause the company trouble if I were to do anything. I was able to process that I don't have experience in how to handle active drowning but—

 _None_ of that _mattered._

 _Because_ —

That body drowning in the water—

That _person_ visibly _struggling_ to reach the surface of the fifteen foot pool—

—is _my little sister._

 _My little sister_ was **drowning** in _front. Of. Me._

 _How_ could I **not** actively save her?

 _How_ could I **not** _do something?_

 **Fuck** it.

 **Fuck** everything else!

I yelled her name dropped everything in my arms ran across the deck and jumped into the water before I could properly _think_ of it.

The water was cold and dragged at my clothes, but I was more worried about her being alright by the end of this. "Hey!" I called again, growling in panic and frustration at her flailing limbs, "Calm—!"

I was close enough for her to latch on to me, and the moment she did, I swallowed a mouthful of water as she pushed me down. My first instinct was to go up and breathe, but I managed to calm the brief flutter of panic in my chest and keep myself from fighting my way to the surface. I pushed at the girth of my little sister's abdomen and let her head pop up enough for her _inhale_ and _calm the fuck down_ because if she continued to panic we would _both drown._

And somehow, between the struggling and thrashing and treading, I realized—

_I'm not strong enough to pull her out of the water._

_I'm not strong enough to save her._

_I am_ **not strong** _enough to_ **save** _her._

And to my racing heart and mind, I could only think, _She just needs air, she just needs air, she just needs to breathe, someone will help, someone will pull her out, she just needs air, she just needs air, she just needs to breathe—_

My lungs were about ready to burst, and I slowly exhaled to give them more time to last—but this only made me _sink_ and **god—**

My thighs were burning from my beating treading, and the more I exhaled, the more I sank, and the more and more my arms strained to keep the girl above water.

My fingertips left the skin of her belly, and I heard a gurgle that set my heart ablaze and thoughts racing desperately with, **No!** _NotHerNotHerNotHerNotHer!—WHERE_ IS _EVERYONE?—WHY WON'T_ ANYONE HELP?!— _They'll come soon! They're coming!—They'recomingThey'recomingThey'recomingThey'recoming!—Breathe! Just breathe! She just_ **needs to breathe!—** _Comeon!Comeon!Saveher!Saveher!_ She's drowning!—WHY _AM I_ **FAILING?—** _Heretheycome! They'realmosthere! Justalittlebitmore!Justalittlebitmore!_ Just a little bit more!

There was a pressure building against my temples, and my eyes stung from the chlorine in the water. I unconsciously inhaled and felt a familiar, _yet unfamiliar_ , feeling encase my chest and throat—my ears popping at the sudden invasion and depth— _It hurts!_ It hurts! **Make it stop!**

My mind was slowing down, and my muscles were getting heavier and heavier. I found it harder and harder to _think_ or even _will_ myself to continue, but the words continued to repeat themselves over and over— _Ihavetosaveher!Shecan'tdie!Ihavetosaveher!Shecan'tdie!—COMEON!COMEON!_ **COME ON!—** _Justalittlemore!Justalittlemore!Almostthere!—DON'T YOU_ **DARE** _DIE ON ME!_

I was sinking I belatedly realized, and any sudden movements would send everything inside of me to—AAHHH! _It hurts! It hurts!_ **It hurts!—** _WHERE_ IS _EVERYONE?!—_ **Make it stop!—** _She's dying! Sheisn'tbreathing!No!No!Not yet!—COMEON!COME ON!—WHAT KIND OF BIG SISTER_ **AM I?!**

The splashing sounds of flailing limbs were gone, and the sudden silence made everything go numb in relief because—

_Thank god._

_THANK_ **GOD!**

 _She's_ **okay.**

—someone pulled her out in time.

A vague instinct pierced my mind at the previous thought: _Swim. Surface. Air._ I kicked once, twice, and felt the tension in my mind pop.

The world went dark.

* * *

**Glossary**

_bola_ —literally translates to, "ball"; here, it is used as a term of affection

 _Lupe_ —common nickname for, "Guadalupe,"; here, it is a nickname that has no relation to the name itself (i honestly love telling this story, so if any of you guys are curious PM me!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> I'm currently coming over from FF.net, so please bear with me. Please let me know what you guys think! Your feedback is very much appreciated!
> 
> —prince


	2. Prelude: Age 5

_Miura Haru was born Tuesday, May 3rd, in Namimori Hospital at 21:12:15, at 7 lb 8 oz._

I was five years old when the memories came.

That's right. When the memories _came._

I didn't understand any of it, especially since the images began mingling with my present ones: a girl named Mel, a mathematician for a father, baby sisters, the Japanese language, a single mother, Spanish, English, laughing, crying, _drowning_. My head cramped and it hurt _so much_ that I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't.

It hurt. _So_ **much.**

It became so bad that my parents— _No,_ Miura Haru's parents— _no, my paren_ **—** did her best to find help for their child— **no** for _Miura Haru._

But nothing was wrong. At least on a biological level.

Biologically.

Because I still _felt_ **something.** Something _physical_ pressing against my temples and _pounding_ into my skull to. make. room. for. it. all—

fit. it. all. in—

And the worried look the both kept on passing me when they thought I wasn't looking— the worried whispers behind my back— reminded me of my mother. The panic and fear on their faces whenever I accidentally mixed fluent English and Spanish with my Japanese, the **fear** whenever I didn't understand or recognize them...

I wanted it to stop.

I wanted it _all_ to stop.

So…I pretended it never happened.

I pretended that it was all an attention seeking lie.

It took a few weeks to convince them of it. Even then they looked skeptical of my sudden recovery. They would even go to the extreme of _testing_ me in other languages and little memories that I had _sworn_ to remember during my breakdowns.

Do you know how difficult it was for me to claim that I was an only child?

That I never had siblings?

That I was a child of two parents who I could _see_ cared for me very _very much_ but I had little to no memories of?

What must they have been _thinking?_

What must they have _felt_ when I screamed in fear of not recognizing them?

When I would call them strangers and cry in fear and pain and panic?

No.

I was getting my bearings. I was starting to understand that this wasn't normal.

I was beginning to understand these were memories of a past life.

I didn't need to worry them.

I could handle it myself.

But it was hard.

It was so **difficult.**

But as time passed and I clutched my head behind a door, stifling my cries against my knees as the last memories settled...after all of the hysterical denial, violent anger, and heart wrenching depression in public bathrooms to avoid detection...

The sense of _normalcy_ I received whenever I walked through the front door and Miura Haru's parents greeted me with so much love and kisses and touches and hugs and affection...

It was the _best_ thing they could have done for me.

And I am so _so grateful_ for it.

Would it be selfish of me... to want this forever?

Would it be selfish of me... after making her disappear?

No, disappear isn't the right word.

In the beginning, I had _felt_ her. I had _felt_ her _shrinking_ and growing smaller and smaller the _more_ my memories returned.

What would you call that...?

Possession?

No. I felt that she hadn't _disappeared._ If anything, I could _feel_ her, still.

As if she had _become_ a part of me.

Was it still possession _then?_ When we become _one?_

Was I my own person anymore?

Whatever the case may be, I knew one thing for certain. After all of this—

Whether I had, "take over," or been, "awakened,"—

I was Miura Haru.

Well, sort of.

I was a _new_ Miura Haru.

* * *

I gasped awake, hyper aware of how cold it was in my room.

I didn't move, scared that the shadows luring in every corner would reach for me the moment I did.

I closed my eyes and then opened them again, wanting to hide yet too fearful of the darkness.

_I want..._

I wanted my mother. My mom. _Ma_ —

But she wasn't here to comfort me.

_I'm alone._

So, _so,_ **alone.**

The tears pooled in my eyes at the realization, fear and doubt and frustration and _fear_ and anger and _fear_ —

I choked on a whimper, the sound escaping my lips as a gasp. My nose started to run at the suppressed sobs—

"Haru?" I flinched, as if I had been physically struck.

I still wasn't used to being called by that name...

The door opened further, the hallway light spilling into the bedroom floor. Emi Incubo stood in the doorway looking concerned, and the look made something in my chest clench. I immediately sniffled loudly to clear my airway, the sound making the older woman walk into the room fully.

"Is something wrong my _piccola*?"_ She kneeled on the edge of the futon, hands pulling at the covers obscuring my chin. _"Are you alright?"_ She was slipping into Italian, her fingers brushing my hair from my sweaty forehead. The motion was so familiar and comforting that it console—no, it _hurts_ _—_

I managed to choke out a, "Mm... I had a nightmare..." as she searched my face with eyes that seemed to put the night sky to shame in their depth and amount of stars.

I felt guilt as her actions comforted me.

Was I allowed to feel comforted? Was it okay? I haven't forgetting about my first mother, is my initial fear. I still remember her and miss her and want her with me but—

Emi Incubo... was making my heart slow in reassurance and her hands were making me feel _safe—_

She must have seen something on my face, because she pursed her lips briefly before standing. "I'll be right back."

My heart skipped at the sentence. She had said it in Japanese.

I knew then that she had seen something dangerous.

She returned too quickly for me to do anything, Miura Kazuo behind her. The larger man looked half-asleep, yet seemed to be doing his best in staying awake.

"You had a nightmare, Haru?" he asked, not even pausing in walking around the futon to my back.

I mumbled assent as he slipped into the folds behind me, his sigh ruffling my hair as he got comfortable. Emi Incubo slid in, in front of me, arm encircling my waist to pat my back in a soothing rhythm that had the fear and anxiousness immediately wane.

"Sleep now, Haru." Miura Kazuo said, arm slipping out of the blanket to encircle me and land on Emi Incubo's hip.

The smell and heat of them was so _reassuring_ that I found myself _relaxing_ to the temptation of them.

Something _inside of me_ **ached.**

"Un..." I breathed, wanting to cry but not fully understanding why.

I cared for Emi Incubo and Miura Kazuo very much. I don't know if I would ever be able to see them as my parents, but I can admit that—

My heart is open to them.

* * *

**Glossary**

_piccola_ _—_ term of endearment that translates to, "little one"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just here to tease, haha.
> 
> Emi Incubo is first name, last. I did this just for cultural sake, considering she's Italian and Miura Kazuo (last name, first) is Japanese.
> 
> —prince


	3. Prelude: Age 6

"Haru-chan?" I blinked back into awareness, vaguely confused and startled at spotting Shiro suddenly next to me.

"Eh?" I mumbled, blinking rapidly to bring my mind right side up. "Shiro-kun? What are you doing here...?"

Last I checked, he was supposed to be at aikido practice... _Daichi isn't with him..._

He frowned, lavender eyes searching my face. The expression caught me off guard, since it wasn't one he wore often, and my sleepy mind wasn't interpreting it very well at the moment. "I came to see you off..." He said slowly, seeming serious yet curious at the same time. "What were you looking at, Haru-chan?"

_Thump thump._ The question was simple and shouldn't have had my heart racing as fast as it was. But I was nervous—

—because I had been seeing black butterflies out of the corner of my eye a lot—and I didn't know whether they were hallucinations and whether I was the only one who could see them or not—

I didn't know... if I was going crazy or if it had something to do... with me being...

"A butterfly." I answered quickly—maybe _too_ quickly, I realized, judging the way he continued to stare at me. Before he could question it any further, I turned to face the older boy fully. "You came to see me off Shiro-kun?"

He still carried that serious expression on his face, and it was slowly morphing to something that resembled worry.

I was getting scared. I didn't know whether he was going to push the topic, or whether he had something tragic to say.

_Does he think I'm crazy? Has he had enough of me? Does he not want to be friends anymore? Or is it his parents? Have his parents finally had enough of his skipping? Have they found out where he goes during his practice hours? Are they going to tighten his leash? Are they going to take him away from me?_

I just want that expression of his to _stop._

Which, I belatedly realized, may be a _dangerous_ thing to feel—

"Ne, Haru-chan..." He grabbed my hands, the motion not uncommon but strange when paired with his current look.

_Thump thump thump_ _—_ "You..." _thumpthumpthum_ _— "_ are coming next year too, right...?"

I exhaled, glad that the topic wasn't as serious as he was portraying it to be and mildly mortified that I had exaggerated so much.

"I..." he continued, grip on my hands tightening, "Really like this new Haru-chan..."

For a split second, fear shot through my heart. The fact that _this_ boy, who had probably only seen Miura Haru once or twice (considering he had only started playing with me this year), had managed to _notice_ that there was something _different_ about me _scared_ me.

It meant, the people close to me _had_ to have noticed too.

For a brief moment, I feared for the reactions other members of the Miura family might have gotten after seeing me this summer.

Could they tell that I had changed? That I wasn't the Miura Haru they remembered?

"Un." I nodded, forcing myself to act casual. I tilted my head to catch his lavender eyes, smiling at him to reduce any concern he currently held; he looked worried. "I'll see you next summer. We'll play lots when I come back." I promised.

I really liked him. Enough to want to continue being friends with him.

We were... strangely similar in a way...

Ran Shiro was the only child of Sado island's two prestigious families. He was a neglected child two years my senior who liked to boast I was his best friend with a large grin on his face. I don't know why he suddenly approached me, considering he had had chances to approach Miura Haru before, but his insistence of us being best friends only made it more difficult to interpret.

Ran Shiro liked the _new_ Miura Haru.

But _why?_

He grinned, a familiar expression that was beginning to become comforting to me. "Ne, Haru-chan?" He said, voice more characteristically bubbly.

"Hm?"

He leaned forward, the lack of space between us not comfortable, just sudden. His white bangs settled on my forehead, and I grunted in curiosity at his action.

"Shir—?"

"A going away present." He grinned, pecking me on the lips.

I blinked, confused and mildly shocked at what he had just done. "Eh? Shiro? Why did you...?"

He pulled farther away, looking like a satisfied cat and _damn him for looking so cute_ _—_

"Daichi once told me," He began, tilting his head in speculation, "that kisses are for people I like. So I kissed you."

_Eh?_

He said it so matter-of-fact-edely that I was confused for a moment.

"Daichi said..." I mumbled, picturing the graying butler, "for people you like..."

_He kissed me... because he likes me...?_

_Ah!_

"Pft!" I pulled Shiro closer to me, suddenly filled with _caring_ and _affection_ and _love_ for this boy as I understood his intentions. "Kisses on the mouth are for people you love romantically, Shiro-kun." I said, grinning in fondness. "We're friends, ne?"

"Un!" He nodded vigorously, "Best friends." He added, almost like a correction.

"Kisses between friends are on the cheek." I continued, watching as his expression morphed from a befuddled one to one that resembled an alert cat. "Like this." I stood on my toes, kissing his left cheek in a hauntingly familiar motion that reminded me of my mother and sisters that were no longer with me.

That reminded me of _family._

He looked at me, an expression of rapt attention on his face, seeming to try and memorize the words I had just spoken. I loved that expression; so much so, it made me want to kiss him in affection again. I smiled at him, trying to convey my feelings through the action—but I think it came out a little sadly, because Shiro's eyes sharpened.

He kissed me on the cheek, and the action made me feel better. "I like you, Haru-chan." He said.

I grinned, wanting to laugh in mild happiness. "Un. I like you too, Shiro-kun. I'll see you next summer, okay?"

"Un. I'll miss you."

This time, I did laugh. He was so honest and blunt it always surprised me. "I'll miss you too," I admitted.

"Haru, it's time to go." Emi Incubo's voice drifted from the front of the house, and I knew she and Miura Kazuo were finishing loading up the car. _"Have you said good-bye to your grandparents, yet?"_

"I gotta go, Shiro-kun." I kissed him one last time, this time for sure: in farewell. I squeezed his hands in reassurance before letting go. "Take care of yourself, and don't forget to send me those letters you promised, okay?"

"Un!" He agreed, masking his emotions fairly well. But I knew, by the way he let his hands fall to his sides and the way he watched me back away—that he was already missing me.

Was it strange...? That I felt guilty?

* * *

**Omake: What He Was Thinking**

Ran Shiro had a vague memory of Daichi (the family butler) telling him kisses were for people he liked. So when Miura Haru looked at him with large brown eyes framed by long eyelashes that made him think, _Haru-chan's really pretty…_ , he was certain that this was what he meant.

He had leaned in, watching attentively for a reaction. Yet she had none to give. Her lips were slightly chapped due to the changing weather he remembered her saying, but the confused expression on her face only made him cock his head and re-evaluate his feelings.

_Yup. I like Haru-chan._

But kisses on the mouth are for people he loves. And kisses on the cheek are for friends and family.

And although he understood, he didn't like it.

He watched her walk away, already missing her and the warmth of her hands and mouth on his skin.

He hummed to himself, finding the silence suddenly boring.

_I want to kiss Haru-chan, again._

May the audience please note Ran Shiro's feelings were anything _but_ romantic.

Yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, this is one of my more favored chapters, haha. What do you all think so far?
> 
> —prince


End file.
